Mysterious Connections
by PinStripes3030
Summary: Hermione Granger never knew what drew her to Harry in the first place. She was a straight arrow, He was a troublemaker, and under most circumstances, they would never get along. Go through fifth year, and for some their last, as they battle to save Harry.
1. After Effects

Title: Mysterious Connections  
  
Author: Ludwigkoopa  
  
Authoremail: larrykoopa3030@yahoo.com  
  
Spoilers: All four books  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: Voldemort has been resurrected and Harry is no longer safe. The protection that his mother has placed on him as been broken by Voldemort, and now Harry is left to fend for himself. Hermione Granger never knew what drew her to Harry in the first place. She was a straight arrow, He was a troublemaker, and under most circumstances, they would never get along. Why is that? Go through fifth year, and for some their last, as they battle to save Harry's life.  
  
  
  
It had been thirty minutes since Bagman sent a squad of Aurors into the hedge maze. It had been ten minutes since Fleur was escorted out, and five minutes since Viktor was dragged out, his arms hung around the necks of two aurors. Hermione didn't give Fleur and Krum a second though. She was still waiting for Harry and Cedric to come out.  
  
It seemed the whole of Hogwarts were on their feet and waiting in baited breath for any news of their missing champions. Some people were worse off than others. Ms. Weasley had her face buried in her husband's shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Arthur! We never should have let the ministry bring back the triwizard tournament. Now Harry could be dead."  
  
Dead. I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn't be dead. it's impossible. Harry wasn't supposed to die from anything besides old age. He was supposed to live a full, ripe life and only dieing an old man warming his bed.  
  
If he was supposed to die, he should have died when he was a baby. Then his death would have made sense, but not now. Dieing now would be unfair; it would be cruel.  
  
He lived through so much, and still had so much to live for.  
  
I could hear Ginny's voice now, her face was buried into her father's free shoulder.  
  
"He can't be dead! He just can't! I. I haven't told him I loved him yet."  
  
At first, Ginny's proclamation of love surprised me, but now that I think about it, she did love him in a sense.  
  
I loved him a sense too. I loved that he was my best friend. I loved that he was always a constant, the way that no matter how bad things got, he would always be there. He would always be there as a shoulder to cry on, a study partner, a helping hand, or even your knight in shining armor. I loved that he was my north star.  
  
In a sense I loved him to.  
  
Ron was next to me now and he was hugging me with his impossibly long arms. I could feel his body shudder against mine. Ron loved Harry like a brother. The thought that Harry might be dead was killing him.  
  
It was killing me to.  
  
I could feel the pain growing in my head, a constant ache that didn't seem to fade away, but just kept growing and growing.  
  
I blacked out.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
The dream was a foggy mélange of images and sensations. I could see a graveyard, and in it stood many robe figures. There was a boy in the graveyard, and a man, tall and skeletally thin, was hunting him. The man had an evil, flat face, with gleaming red eyes. Just the sight of him sent icy surges of terror through me. Only one person can inspire that fear, it was Voldemort.  
  
I couldn't hear their voices, everything they said came out as soft, incoherent mumbles. However, I did make out one word that came from Voldemort. With his wand pointed at the helpless boy, he screamed Crucio.  
  
The flash from his wand illuminated the dark graveyard. For a brief heart wrenching second, I saw the boy's face, and with a sickening realization I saw it was Harry.  
  
I tried to help him; reach out to him and untie his bonds, but I couldn't. I was locked in place, a useless spectator forced to watch the act of cruelty before me. I never felt so helpless in my entire life. My best friend was dieing, and I couldn't help him.  
  
Voldemort seemed to utter some words to another man, who in turn untied Harry's bonds, and returned his wand. Harry and Voldemort bowed to each other, and before Harry could even raise his wand, Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse again.  
  
I tried to move my legs again, but they were locked in place, as if I was in the leg locker curse. I never wanted to help someone so much in my life, to just maybe throw myself in front of Harry and prevent him from feeling the curse.  
  
I felt a sudden pang of hope when Harry was finally leveled his wand at Voldemort; maybe, just maybe he would be able to stop him.  
  
When the green light from Voldemort's wand collided with the red from Harry's wand, the lights changed color to a bright, deep gold. And then thousands of golden beams arced over their heads, crisscrossing all around them, until they were in golden shaped dome.  
  
Smokey shapes began to emerge from the tip of Voldemort's wand. The smoke began to materialize; legs, body, arms, and face. More and more smokey figures came out. One by one, the figures turned and spoke to Harry.  
  
Harry's body seemed to be shaking in an effort to hold his wand. His fingers, white with strain, were losing its grip on the wand, its base tenuously held by his thumb and index figure.  
  
The smokey figures that had talked to Harry turned their attention to Voldemort. Harry broke magical connection with a mighty wrench, and ran.  
  
Harry ran full pelt through the graveyard toward the triwizard cup. Tombstones were shattered by poorly aimed curses being thrown at Harry. Voldemort, finally breaking free from the blocking wisps, ran after his retreating as he screamed orders at his subordinates.  
  
But it was too late. Harry grabbed unto the triwizard cup and disappeared.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
I woke up.  
  
I nearly bumped my head into Ron's face when I sat up. People were asking me if I was all right, if I needed to be taken to Madam Pomfrey. I told them I was fine. I was just really worried about Harry.  
  
Harry! I didn't know how long I was out. There had to be news about him by now. I turned desperately to Ron and asked him if Harry's came back. The huge smile on Ron's face confirmed the answer.  
  
Harry is alive!  
  
At that moment I felt like I could do back flips into the air, but I settled for standing up. When I tried to stand, my head began to throb in pain. It was as if a knife was piercing into my forehead. My feet gave out from under me, and I felt like I was going to black out again.  
  
Good thing Ron was there because he caught me as I fell.  
  
I fainted again.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
So how did you like it? Did you not like it? Either way please review, any feedback will help me a become a better writer, and hopefully improve the quality of my stories. 


	2. Dreaming between Dreams

Hermione felt lost in a jumble of thoughts and emotions.  
  
She was dreaming, and the scary thing was she knew she was dreaming. Hermione had read all about lucid dreams before: about how if you realized the dream you could do anything you wished.  
  
This wasn't a lucid dream.  
  
She had no feeling of her body; having only vision and thoughts as she floated past strange images and emotions. Every image she saw triggered feelings and emotions that she had never felt so intensely before; fear, pain, happiness, despair, and other emotions she couldn't begin to describe.  
  
And it frightened her.  
  
She couldn't distinguish her own emotions from the ones that were flowing into her. First she was happy beyond words, and then a second later, she was overwhelmed with heart breaking anguish.  
  
Seemingly, seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours into days. After the first day, Hermione ceased keeping track of time.  
  
Was she dead? When she fainted, did she die?  
  
Was this strange world, where she was void of a body, and only had possession of a mind - the afterlife?  
  
Hermione shrugged off the question, instead she engrossed herself in the images and sensations that she frequently saw and felt.  
  
The images she saw were emblazoned in her brain. She tried to make sense of them, to explain them; a small slanted room, three towering human shadows; two tall, and one small and fat, a trio of graveyard tombstones, an open sky, masked faces amiss a sea of black, three glowing children playing.  
  
When she saw the little children, Hermione felt an intense joy, perhaps love, between the three. But when she saw the graveyard, Hermione felt an indescribable sense of longing, feeling as if she were empty; having only half a soul, or half a heart.  
  
She let the sensations of every image course through her, embracing each every emotion - positive or negative - as if they were her own.  
  
The sheer intensity of the emotions engulfed Hermione, suffocating her. And inside this strange dream world, she fainted once again.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Hermione blinked her eyes open.  
  
Immediately, she sat up in bed and glanced around to find out where she was. Familiar metal post bed, sanitary white sheets, and a cabinet of herbs and medicines in the far corner; she was in Madam's Pomfrey's.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione called. No answer. "Madam Pomfrey? Anyone? Is anyone here?" Still. no answer. "Where is everyone? And." Hermione glanced at the other beds, all of them were unoccupied.  
  
How was that possible that her injuries were greater than everyone else's? Hermione expected to see Harry, Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric in the beds, nursing their injuries after the third task. She even half expected Ron to be pacing around her bedside, fretting over the fact that she fainted in his arms in the first place.  
  
Instead, the entire room was completely void of life and filled with an unnerving silence.  
  
She called one last time. "Hello? Is anyone there?" No answer.  
  
Hermione took matters into her own hands. She swung her legs out of her bed sheets and tried to stand. But when she tried to push herself up with her two arms, her left arm began to spasm painfully. Lying back down on the bed, she lifted her left arm above her face.  
  
Her arm was bleeding.  
  
Why didn't she notice it before? Right above the median between her wrist and elbow, Hermione had a small dagger cut. Her wound was bleeding so freely, that her cut had to be less than three minutes old.  
  
Blood was pouring down her arm, staining her clothes and the pristine white sheets, soaking them a crimson red.  
  
She called out desperately. "Help me, please! I'm bleeding!" Still no answer.  
  
Hermione forced herself up to stand up and to her surprise; she did not feel her arm begin to spasm.  
  
The pain was gone.  
  
In fact, the dagger wound had disappeared.  
  
Was she hallucinating? Did Madam Pomfrey give her too much medicine? Where was Madam Pomfrey, anyway?  
  
Hermione stepped toward the entrance.  
  
Oddly, the door seemed to open every step she moved forward. When Hermione took a step backward, the door began to close. Three steps forward, three squeaks open. Three steps backward, three squeaks close.  
  
Hermione continued undaunted toward the door.  
  
The door was fully open now, even though Hermione was only half way to the archway. Three more steps forward, and a figure dressed in the black as night robes flashed by the doorway.  
  
Hermione stopped in her tracks.  
  
She tried to recall the figure; black as the night robes, equally black unruly hair and a pale white face holding up a pair of glasses on its nose. It was Harry.  
  
Hermione ran toward the entrance, ignoring the possessed door as it continued to slam itself into the adjoining wall on its own accord.  
  
The moment she stepped out into the corridor, she saw the tail end of Harry's robes swish into another hallway.  
  
Hermione followed.  
  
For hours it continued. Every time she chased Harry, Hermione arrived a second after Harry disappeared into another corridor, always leaving his robes swishing in his trail. Harry always turned at every corridor, but never went through a door. In fact, he ignored every single door.  
  
Hermione called out to him. "Harry, where are you going?" But he would never answer.  
  
Finally, she tired of chasing after Harry, and decided to go back to Madam Pomfrey's. But she couldn't find her way back. Every corridor she turned into and every hallway she went down seemed to be exactly the same; one door, and a black suit of armor in beside it.  
  
She opened the door. The inside of the room lacked the normal four walls and a ceiling, in fact it wasn't a room at all- it was a graveyard.  
  
With a sickening feeling of dread gripped her heart- it was the same graveyard. Only this time it wasn't from a detached distance, she was standing in the middle of the tombstones, walking on the graves of the deceased.  
  
Hermione steeled herself to once again relive the sight of Harry, writhing under the pain of the cruciatus curse. It was torture, simply torture to watch one of her best friends die, and not have the power to help him, or to even comfort and hold him, to at least let him know that she would be by his side.  
  
But looking around, it wasn't the same scene as before. The graveyard was empty, and the ground was undisturbed- nothing had happened. yet.  
  
Moments later, Hermione heard footsteps of what sounded like two people get louder and louder. She squinted her eyes in the direction of the noise, and saw two very familiar boys, their wands drawn, walking toward her.  
  
Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to warn Harry, to tell him run, but she was too late. A voice, cruel and emotionless voice echoed out of the darkness. "Kill the spare."  
  
Green lighting surged out of the darkness, and as it slammed into Cedric's chest. everything froze: the twisted expression on Cedric's face as he felt the instant and overwhelming pain of the killing curse, and Harry's horrified realization that Cedric was going to die, was eerily bathed in green light that made Hermione's skin crawl and shiver.  
  
Seconds past, and the scene before her began to move backward, stop, and then move forward again. She heard the dreaded words again.  
  
"Kill the spare."  
  
Green light hit Cedric's chest again, and again the scene froze, then rewinded. Over and over, Hermione was forced to relive Cedric's death. Over and over again, she was forced to see their expressions.  
  
Hermione turned around and tried to ignore the scene, but it was impossible. No matter how well she covered her ears, she always heard, "Kill the spare." And regardless if she shut her eyes, the flashes of green light followed her, reminding her that the killing curse was used.  
  
She backed away from the scene, not caring where she was going: a few steps back and she was away from graveyard, and magically, inside the hallway corridor looking through the open door, where flashes of green light could still be seen.  
  
Hermione reached out to close the door, but someone beat her to the task. Harry's hand flew from somewhere off to her side and violently shoved the door shut. But Harry wasn't done, Hermione watch in queer curiosity as Harry not only locked the door, but pushed the suit of armor to cover the keyhole.  
  
"Harry-"  
  
Hermione stopped herself because this time, Harry actually answered, but instead of friendly concerned smile she expected, she saw Harry's face cold, and somehow missing the something that made Harry the kind person he usually is. In his stead stood a stranger; a person who was looking at her with such a look of contempt that it made her heart constrict with hurt.  
  
When she reached out to touch his arm, he quickly pulled away and started running down hall. Hermione chased after him, but the results were the same as before. Only this time she was in front of a door, but with a red suit of armor standing by its side.  
  
An unexplainable voice began to speak in Hermione's head. There was something monumental, something of crucial importance behind this one door. Before she could form a coherent thought, Hermione's hand had reached about opened the door.  
  
Hermione took a few tentative steps inside. She was once again surrounded by the graveyard, and once again, two boys, Cedric and Harry, were walking toward her.  
  
Everything was the same; the graveyards, the weeds, the gravel. only this time, she saw a third and fourth figure walking from the opposite direction towards the boys. The third figure, a masked man draped in heavy black cloak, and wearing a white death eater mask, had his wand drawn and leveled toward Diggory. The fourth figure, a straggly middle aged man, with long white fingers and blood red eyes trailed close behind.  
  
It was Voldemort.  
  
"Kill the spare."  
  
The death eater was more than happy to comply and obey his master. "Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Hermione shuddered when the death eater spoke. It wasn't the blinding green light, or the fact that she had to relive Cedric's death once again, but the familiar, yet alien voice that had uttered the killing curse.  
  
And the moment the mask came off, she knew why.  
  
Behind the white death eater mask was Harry, and he had red eyes.  
  
Hermione's head swirled in confusion. Where was she? And why was she being forced to witness such morbid and cruel things. Cedric's death was bad enough, but Harry being a death eater and a murderer? What exactly is this place?  
  
She didn't notice until a few moments, but the Harry who was had stood next to Cedric as he fell, ran to her and grasped her hand. Hermione was yanked back to the entrance, and finally, was pushed out of the room with such force; she flew through the air, and slammed against the wall.  
  
Harry didn't follow her out; instead he used his wand to close the door. And seemingly from behind the door he made the suit of armor come alive and stand guard directly in front of the door.  
  
Hermione felt loss, and she felt dizzy. She raised her left arm into sight, and discovered she was bleeding again. She felt herself become light headed. faint..  
  
She began to stumble down the corridors, half leaning against the walls for support.  
  
"Is anyone out there? Madam Pomfrey? Harry? Ron? Anybody?"  
  
Someone answered  
  
"Hermione."  
  
"Hello? Can you hear me?"  
  
"Hermione."  
  
Hermione came to a fork in the hallway; a choice of a right turn and a left turn. To her right, she saw a familiar swish of the blackish ends of cloak disappear around the corridor. To her left, she an endless hallway, but down that hallway she heard a soft echo call, "Hermione."  
  
She trailed down the corridor, the farther she walked, the stronger she became. The wound on her arm disappeared, and she no longer felt light headed and faint. The voice was louder.  
  
"Hermione."  
  
She followed the voice taking a left turn, right turn, right turn, left turn, and then a right turn until she came upon a white door. She opened it and across the room was an open window, and outside Ron was hovering on a broom with his hand out stretched toward her.  
  
She ran to him.  
  
"Hermione, wake up."  
  
And she did.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
So what did everyone think? A little weird, huh? Ah this chapter will only be the weird, symbolical chapter, I think it will be anyway. Anyway, later chapters will be much more grounded. Please tell me what I can improve, etc etc. Remember almost all advice can help me become a better writer. 


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